Secret Fantasy(12)
Author: Carly Phillips

He had this fantasy thing down pat. She doubted he knew exactly what her fantasy was, but she couldn’t deny he was fulfilling her every whim. He knew just how to cater to her and make her feel special, knew exactly how to set her up as the center of his universe. And if Juliette had to guess, he wasn’t at all worried about her asking him to leave. After last night, why should he be? She wanted him here as much as he apparently wanted to stay.

She treated him to a smile of her own. “If I’m going to have breakfast beneath the warm sun overlooking an exotic garden of tropical plants, I’d hate to do it alone. The terrace door is open. Why don’t you set the tray there?” She let her hand fall to her side and her robe parted as if on command, exposing the lacy-edged nightgown and nothing more.

Although his eyes darkened with interest, Juliette knew she hadn’t revealed much.

Except her desire to have him around.

Doug let out a long breath. He’d thought a good night’s sleep would give him perspective, distance and a renewed vigilance to dig for information and dig deep. He was a professional and his father needed him home. He had plenty of reason to give his full attention to his goal. He’d even brushed aside the possibility that Merrilee might not allow him to stay on. He needed to be here too badly to think about that now.

But as he took in Juliette’s soft, sexy robe he knew remaining detached wasn’t something he could accomplish easily. His plan for the day would keep them busy and give him the opportunity for get-to-know-you conversation and hopefully some revelations in between. But he still had to deal with now. And one glance at how she looked first thing in the morning shifted his focus. He no longer wanted to talk because a different desire had taken hold.

He’d already acknowledged his weakness for soft, sexy women. And Juliette, fresh from her bed and achingly beautiful, tempted him to put his baser needs ahead of his more pressing ones. Before he could act on an impulse he’d regret, he headed inside and, ignoring the open bedroom door and the rumpled bed in which she’d slept, he went straight for the terrace and the welcoming breeze.

“I’ve fantasized about this.” Her husky voice sounded behind him.

“About rolls and butter?” He lifted the tray and revealed her breakfast selection. Better than delving into the subject of real fantasies with a half-dressed woman he desired.

“About eating breakfast on a tropical island with a gorgeous man by my side.” She held on to the slider door with one hand and swung around until she’d joined him on the courtyard overlooking the gardens. “And how can you call a continental breakfast just rolls and butter?”

She settled into a white wrought-iron chair, crossing her legs and revealing an expanse of skin that had him drooling for far more than the food on the tray.

“Because I prefer sweets,” he said. He couldn’t control his tone of voice, deepened by her effect on him.

She picked up a strawberry from the side dish of fresh fruit. “Sweet like this?” she asked, twirling the ripe, red berry between two fingers. “Or more like this?” She lifted a sugar-coated pastry from the basket.

“No.” He walked to where she sat. Bracing his hands on the arms of her chair, he leaned over her, close to her mussed hair and fresh skin. “More like this.” He brushed his lips over hers, meaning to keep things light.

And he did. Featherlight and teasingly soft, he managed to maintain control—until she sighed. A soft sigh that did him in. His knees nearly buckled. Hell, if not for his grip on the chair, he’d have fallen at her feet, and that was a first. But he held on to his dignity and allowed himself a long, lingering taste of her luscious mouth before forcing himself back.

He lifted his head and found her studying him, a smile on her well-kissed lips. “Sweet enough?” she asked.

“For now.” He shrugged, his attempt at nonchalance pathetic, he knew. But now that he’d had an appetizer, maybe he could call himself satisfied and get down to business. He ignored the voice in his head branding him a fool and moved around to the opposite side of the table, settling himself across from her. “So, are you enjoying your vacation?”

“More each passing minute.” Her lips twitched with the effort to withhold a smile. She had him and she obviously knew it. “Coffee?”

He nodded. “But let me. I’m catering this meal for you, remember?” He reached for the carafe.

“You brought the food, but that doesn’t mean I can’t help serve. I’m not some helpless female.”

He leaned back, folding his arms behind his head. “In that case, I’d love a cup of coffee. Black.”

She grinned and took the white carafe off the tray and filled his cup.

“So you’re not a helpless female and I already know you’re not a feminist—”

“How would you know that?” She poured herself coffee and added a small amount of milk, stirring while she awaited his answer.

“Because I took your key, held the door open for you last night and lived to tell about it.”

She laughed. “Think what you want but if you ever step on my rights, you will hear about it.”

He tucked her warning away for later thought. It wasn’t something he could let himself think about and still do his job. “I have no doubt you can stand up for yourself. But back to my original question. You’re not helpless and you’re not a radical feminist,” he said, amending his earlier statement. “Then what are you?”

“In real life?” She ripped off a piece of donut and popped the sugar-laden treat into her mouth. She pointed to her stuffed cheeks and held up one finger.

Stalling. He recognized the tactic. “Yes, in real life. I don’t plan on letting the world intrude but I would like to get to know you a bit.” He lowered his voice. “I’d like you to get to know me, too.” And he meant it, Doug realized.

As much as he could share with her, he wanted to. He’d spent his youth relying on himself, and even after the Houstons had brought him home, he’d been afraid to let them in. It had taken much patience on each of his adoptive parents’ part to gain access to his heart. Yet here was Juliette, a woman he’d just met, a woman who probably possessed information he needed, and Doug found himself wanting to open up as much as he wanted to listen to her in return. He shook his head in frustration, knowing his reasons transcended the charade he’d been forced to play out here on Secret Fantasy. She was getting to him and that put his story and his heart in danger.